


Christmas Without You

by Anotherlostblogger



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anotherlostblogger/pseuds/Anotherlostblogger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about the Christmases Sherlock and John had together, and the ones they celebrated apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Johnlock Gift Exchange present for Tumblr user: Savagesundown. Happy Christmas! I know it's not Mormor, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!
> 
> This is my first work ever...all constructive criticism welcome. Oh, and Merry Christmas everyone. :)
> 
> Many thanks to Kai, who helped beta for me. You're lovely, and I wish you all the best in the world.

The first Christmas John had after he'd met Sherlock went as well as can be expected.

Well, there was the party-which ended badly, what with Irene's supposed death being involved-and he stayed home instead of going out with Jeanette because that's what good friends did. Or at least, that's what John told himself as Sherlock unconsciously ruined yet another relationship for him. And of course, it's hard to be friends with a genius-especially when he comes home with a certain look in his eyes and says, "I hope you didn't mess up my sock index," and that's it for the rest of your evening. It's a rather thankless job, but it goes without saying that John would do anything to have it back.             

Sherlock's first Christmas with John starts with his own complaining. Now that's not unusual in and of itself, but he's complaining to Molly Hooper because John is intended to go to that damned sister's place this year, and he doesn't understand why John still bothers with someone so trivial and uninteresting when he lives with _him_. Molly unfortunately mentions this little tidbit aloud at the party, and Irene turns up dead hours later, and it's really just _women_ that ruin things, isn't it?

But of course, as it turns out, John didn't stay at Harry's, because Sherlock was in a bad way, and in the end it doesn't matter because Irene gets involved before New Year's, and it's one adventure after the other until everything goes down hill and he's plummeting and he's gone.

                                                                    ***          

The following Christmas, John stays at his sister's and she watches him anxiously like she's on suicide alert and all he wants to do is tell her to piss off, but he can't, because she's doing so well-and he's not. Not really. Oh, it's been months since Sherlock died. He's had time to readjust-moved to a small flat alone, and he's becoming more and more of a recluse. He just goes to work until the clinic closes, eats a bit, and collapses from exhaustion. Someone must be looking out for him because Harry shows up out of nowhere a few days before and forces his hand, like he'd done with her many times. The flat was in quite the state, but she helped him clean it and there was no judgement as they sat and ate takeaway in front of the telly instead of a yule log. There was no fighting, and John almost missed it. _He_ would have fought with him at least once.

Sherlock's in Tibet this Christmas, and technically they don't even celebrate this holiday, and it's freezing and miserable as he hides in waiting for the Russian assassin and his kin to return from their hunt. There's so much green around them, that he finds it a bit more festive to add their blood-several rounds to each chest, and five bodies in the snow. Just another step closer towards home.

                                                                     ***          

The next Christmas is better. John's had a steady girlfriend for several months now, and it really has effected him in a positive way. Life isn't more exciting, but it's steady. A nice change of pace, he tells himself. The right sort of lifestyle for getting older. Mary fusses with him, like he did with Sherlock before, but John finds he doesn't mind. It's nice being fussed over for once. It's a proper Christmas dinner with just the two of them, and there's candlelight and wine, and making love in the bedroom she's helped re-decorate. Perhaps he'd always had a co-dependent streak, but somehow John doesn't think so. Later that night, Mary sleeps on, and John just looks out the window as the fairy lights blink on and off. For a moment, as he drifts asleep, he imagines hearing a violin, indulgently playing a carol for him, like it once did.

Sherlock's found Moran. Oh, it's Christmas, and he enters the cartel only to find the trap. He escapes with his life, and three new scars, and he collapses in his motel room, the flashing sign just outside his window a frustrating reminder of his continuous failure. He never expected it could go on so long, and he has a beard, and he misses London so much it aches. Of course, there's more to it than London-there are three hearts still beating because of him, and it's quite irritating that there's no one around to be proud of him for his selflessness. Just before his eyes close, he pictures John's face like he's done a hundred nights before, and it gives him courage.

                                                                     ***          

That leads us to this Christmas, where John has a little velvet box stuck under the tree, and he's waiting for Mary to get there, and eagerly answers the door as it rings. He couldn't have been more surprised by seeing the gaunt man standing there, the ghost of Christmas past with piercing blue eyes and dark ringlets, and a pale, tragically beautiful face. John stands there for a long moment not saying anything, and Sherlock speaks. "Happy Christmas," the ghost says, sounding tentative and unsure. "I realise this must all come as quite a shock..." and John chins him, and very nearly bursts into tears. It's not fair-it's deeply unfair, but without even noticing it he's in Sherlock's embrace, and the two of them stand there until a quiet voice says, "John?" and it's Mary, and she looks concerned and quite possibly jealous. John looks between the two of them, and shuts the door in both of their faces. He can't deal with it. He simply can't. Instead, he runs to the toilet and upsets the contents of his breakfast, tea, and lunch all down the pipes.

It's Irene all over again. These mad, beautiful people coming back from the dead-without a care to who it affects. Sherlock's alive, but this time it affects him. John knows, somewhere inside, there is no world in which he can have both Mary and Sherlock, and that he's going to have to make a decision.

Sherlock is deeply miserable, because of course John has moved on, and it was cruel of him to show up like this, but after everything he's done, he wants something of his friend. He wants to know he's done right, and he wants a hug, and he wants John-and god, he'd looked sick. When the door had shut in his face, John's intended had looked him over with growing comprehension. "Oh," she breathes. "It's you." And it's not much-but, it means John didn't forget him, and that's all that he can ask for at this point. "Yes," he says without sarcasm-just a deeply tired timber. "It's me." And for once, Sherlock recognises the expression he'd had on his face a thousand times when meeting John's girlfriends-but it's on her face, and she shakes her head. "I think....you need this night more than I do," she tells him, and before Mary leaves-quite possibly for the last time-she says, "Take care of him, will you?" Throat tight, he nods, turns back, and knocks.

And John answers the door, and he's the most beautiful sight Sherlock has ever seen, and he doesn't deserve this second chance, but John gives it to him anyway. John would give him everything, really. It's complicated and they don't discuss Mary, or what he's going to do about her, and they eat the dinner John had made for two anyway. Sherlock eats more than John's seen him eat in his life, and it makes his heart pang. There's the couch, but somehow they both know neither of them will be on it tonight. Instead they lay in John's bed, both wearing a pair of his pyjamas. They share stories-and somehow, Sherlock ends up curled around John, and together they both sleep better than they have in years.

                                                                        ***          

The following Christmas there's another velvet box under a tree, this time at 221B. All they know is that it was a Christmas that brought them back together-a Christmas miracle one might say-just one, just for him. Sentiment-Sherlock might have scoffed before, but he doesn't now. It's deeply important, this Christmas. Violin playing, and family visiting, and a proposal, and _Oh God, yes._


End file.
